In A Name
by The Potless Stoner
Summary: "What kind of name is that for a hero' she asked, locking eyes with him.   He gave her a lopsided smile, "a very old one," he answered.


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Yeh, so I was bored and that's never a good thing. If you don't like it don't say anything. If you do like it, please say something.

Disclaimer: ….

It irked her to no end that she'd had to learn his name. She would have been content to simple call him 'you' 'idiot' 'flea bag' 'you idiot flea bag' something like that, but she'd learned his name and she was using! She shook her head, for the same reason parents don't want their children naming stray animals she hadn't wanted to know his name. He was her tool, her way to get her home and throne back, nothing more and then she'd gone and heard his name, once and she'd called him by it (amongst other insults) ever since. Link, what kind of name was that anyway?

"Link," she muttered to herself, her companion heard her.

"Hmm?" he asked, looking up at her.

"What kind of name is that for a hero?' she asked, locking eyes with him.

He gave her a lopsided smile, "a very old one," he answered, "since the beginning of all this," he waved his left hand, "triforce nonsense there have been the various Heroes, Princesses, and Villains that were blessed with it. The triforce only appears every hundred or so years," he began scratching at the golden mark, "the original bearers were that of the first Queen Zelda, the first Evil King," he looked into the fire, "his name was forgotten, and the first Hero, Link."

She nodded, "and how in Hyrule, did you, a farm hand, become the possessor of such a prestigious name?" she kept her eyes on him, as he watched the fire.

"My mother took me to Ordon spring when I was a baby. I was asleep when I was born, and that tends to led to an early death for children," he explained, "she begged the spirits to grant me permeation to use the name, since I was close to death as it was and she thought it would bring me strength if I had a strong name," he gave a rueful grin, "it cost her, her life, but all she care was that I was strong."

They were quiet for a long time before she spoke, seeming in some other world as she did so, "Medius nox Noctis Regina," she muttered.

"What's that mean?" Link asked he saw the blue lines that tattooed his companion glow slightly when she'd said the words.

"Middle Night Queen," she answered, "the name the Goddess gave me when I was born."

He frowned, for whatever reason she sounded saddened by her own name, which confused him.

"When a mother is giving birth, she goes to one of the Goddess's temples, that's the tradition," she said, "The priestess will take the child to an alter and ask the Guardian deities what they want to name the child," she explained, "When I was born, they gave me that name," she shook her head and wrapped her arms around her knees and stared into the fire, "Middle Night Queen, the ruler of the Twilight Realm, in its darkest hour."

Link's watched his friend as she stared off at the moonless sky. She clearly had thought about it before, a reaction like her's was well rehearsed for lack of a better term. He felt his heart sink s he watched the saddened red eyes, and his natural tendency to comfort those who were hurt kicked in.

"Maybe that's not what they meant," he said. The quizzical look he received in response sent him raking his brain for an explanation, "well, midnight is the peak of night, the beginning of the turning point before sunrise," the red eyes dulled slightly, an odd listless look that said clearly she didn't believe that, so again he tried to think of something else connect it to, but nothing came to him.

In the distance a wolf howled.

"Wolves!" he said, as if it were a revelation.

"Yes, wolf-boy, wolves are wake at night," she said, rolling her eyes.

"No, not that," he turned to her, blue locking with red, "midnight is when animals are most awake at night. They could have meant you'd be the one to rule with the 'sacred beast'," the excitement he'd had hardened his resolve, and it showed in his eyes. The skepticism in her own dwindled, at his insistent look.

"Maybe your right," she sighed, though clearly not believing it fully, "Maybe your right."


End file.
